


Hold This

by Missy



Category: Evil Dead (Movies), How I Met Your Mother
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why Barney never goes to Brooklyn at two in the morning...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold This

"Hold this."

Barney didn't even have time to blink before the shotgun was shoved into his unwilling grip. He glanced down in horror at the front of his brand-new suit - it was now stained across the front in a zig-zag pattern with a red, viscous fluid.

"I hope you know a good dry-cleaner, pal, 'cause I just got this ba..." And for once, Barney Stinson was shocked into silence. It was, he decided, the best way to react to the sight of a gigantic and gray-colored alligator bursting through a closed manhole cover, scattering cement dust across his Italian loafers, its mouth wide open and its teeth snapping.

The guy who had given him the gun was calmly removing a - chainsaw?! Who the hell carries a chainsaw around New York, even at three in the morning? - from the leather holster strapped to his back. He revved it briskly as Barney hung back from the chaos, scanning the deserted street for cover, finding none. As a last resort he hid behind the taller man, figuring he'd have enough time to figure out how to shoot the rifle while the alligator nibbled on Scarred Weird Guy Tartare. But Unnamed Chainsaw Guy didn't seem to be in the mood to become zombie food; Barney had to admire his fearlessness. Judging from the guy's attitude, two-foot-tall mutant alligators lurching around on their hind legs - a TALKING alligator?! - was a common thing in his world.

And talk the alligator did, spewing threats in a snarl that reminded Barney of that Linda Blair kid from the Exorcist. He indulged in a brief "Chained Heat" flashback just to take his mind off of the situation but was dragged back to reality by the sharp revving of the chainsaw. The stranger didn't say anything in return, just stood his ground, waiting for the alligator to make a move. The tension was unbearable. Barney considered turning around and running, but, as if he could read his thoughts, the strange man said, "they're attracted to motion. Stay behind me and keep the gun trained on its head; if I go down, aim for the eyes. Got it?" With that, he bent down, grabbed a chunk of cement and threw it against the brick stoop of the brownstone looming before them.

The monster, its patience tried, slithered forward at double-speed, causing Barney to shriek in surprise as he shouldered the rifle. He convinced himself that it would be no different from firing a laser light gun as he listened to the sounds of a battle quickly over, waiting for an opportunity that would not come.

There was little for Barney to do - the strange man had jammed the chainsaw through the alligator's underbelly, which killed the beast quickly but splattered them both in gray-green shaded alligator guts. Something tapped against his right shoe, and Barney hazarded a glance downward.

The severed head glared up at him with eyes absent of pupils. "Swallowyoursoulswallowyoursoul!" it bellowed, white teeth flashing.

Barney blinked as a wave of green slime coated the front of his body, the voice abruptly silenced.

The stranger spoke, a shrug in his voice. "I get that a lot."

Barney rubbed his eyes against the right sleeve of his ruined jacket, his vision clarifying as the stranger reholstered his chainsaw and casually wiped his face against the sleeve of his work uniform.

Barney looked down at what was once a perfectly-tailored suit, feeling a wave of indescribable disgust sweep over him as he realized he would never make his dinner date with Beth the Occupational Therapist in time. As he calculated the probability of his finding a cab willing to drive him uptown and then back to Brooklyn at three in the morning, the stranger took a step backward, surveying his handiwork.

"Great. I needed a new wallet." He turned toward Barney, grabbing the shotgun out of his hands and slipping it into the holster. Barney gaped at the guy's cool reserve, and the fact that he didn't seem to care that his blue work uniform and the majority of his face were streaked gray and white. "Woulda been nice if you'd've used the gun when I told you to."

Barney couldn't come up with a defense; the entire experience had overwhelmed him. "Thanks," said the stranger, his voice sandy and somehow comforting, as he turned and walked away.

***

"...And that, Ted, is why I won't go to Brooklyn after two in the morning anymore. True story." Ted Mosby sighed as they crossed the street. "You don't believe me!"

Ted watched him evenly. "I believed that story about you and the two gymnasts from Pan Tang. You have to admit this one's a stretch."

Barney's voice took on a note of desperation. "Ted, would I tell you a story where I DON'T end up getting the girl?"

Ted paused, considering his words carefully. "Maybe it'll work on Robin. If the alligator doesn't talk in that version."

Barney grumbled, loosening the collar of his pale blue dress shirt. "I need something cold. Something cold and cheap. Hey, Ted, do you have Paris Hilton's number?" Barney grinned, holding up his palm. "TMZ-five?" Ted rolled his eyes before shoving past his friend.

"I don't have time for this, Barney. It's eighty degrees and I'm going on a double-date with my ex and her new pseudo-boyfriend..." a glowing neon sign caught his eye, and Ted abruptly took a detour and doubled back to the crosswalk.

"Where are you going? We'll be late! " He brandished the tinfoil dish of fancy take-out like a broadsword. "The chicken en croute will get soggy!" Barney tried to conceal the anxiety in his voice.

Ted, naturally, picked up on it, and when they reached the other side of the street he turned around and grasped Barney's shoulders. "Dude. Relax. It's just Robin."

"I know it's just Robin!" Barney pushed Ted away, then smoothed his rumpled lapels.

"You won't make any headway if you pass out before we get there."

""If anyone's going to pass out, it'll be you. 'Cause the force of my awesomeness will knock you out!"

Ted rolled his eyes as Barney wiped his palms against his pants. "Want a Coke..." He frowned as they stopped before the brand-new store occupying the corner. "S-Mart? What the hell is an S-Mart?"

Barney shrugged. "Big department store chain in the Midwest. I worked as a consultant when they merged with Y-Mart. Ned in sales' been telling everyone they're trying to expand eastward."

Ted shrugged, pushing into the store and groaning his relief as they were hit full-force by a blast of sub-polar air. Barney stationed himself directly before the air conditioning grate, allowing the cool air to soothe his heat-drenched skin, while Ted gathered a couple of sodas and a bag of chips. They met up at cash register number six.

Over the regular, mechanical beep of the surrounding registers and the snappy, quick rhythm of fingertips clicking over keypads, a deep and bored voice spoke up. "That'll be five forty-eight..."

Barney, in the middle of fixing his tie in the reflection of the cigarette case, looked up at the sound as his red face turned pale. "NOT YOU!" he cried out.

The man behind the register rolled his eyes, and Ted stared apprehensively at the metal gauntlet that served as his right hand. "Get that blood off your suit yet?"

Ted quickly put everything together mentally; the outlandish story, the guy with the scars suddenly appearing. He might have appreciated the prank, were he not exhausted and harried. "Nice trick, Barney." Then to the stranger behind the register. "How much did he pay you, and do you do parties? My friend has a birthday coming up, and he's always wanted to do a pirate theme …" Ted's sentence trailed off as the lights began to flicker.

"Down," the man behind the counter ordered. "GET DOWN NOW."

The wind began to howl. Ted wondered who the hell had turned up the air conditioning when an old woman in the candy aisle suddenly turned around, snarling.

They would all apparently suffer through the eternal torments of hell in never-ceasing agony. Great.

Ted shot a glance at Barney and suddenly knew from his friend's wild eyes and horrified expression that He Was Not Kidding.

The man behind the counter vaulted over the conveyer belt in the blink of an eye. "Hey," he gave them a half-crazed grin, throwing his rifle into Ted's limp but open arms. "Hold this."


End file.
